


I heard that love was out of my control

by janie_tangerine



Series: jb week 2017 [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (i guess), (literally), (steeped in language), Brienne is the Best, Denial of Feelings, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hand Jobs, Huddling For Warmth, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Don't Even Know, Jaime/Brienne Appreciation Week, M/M, Multi, OT3, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Finale, Road Trips, Season/Series 07, Season/Series 07 Spoilers, The Author Regrets Nothing, Threesome - F/M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, give jaime what he wants 2k17: a mission, past j/c - Freeform, the show made me do this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 08:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12272886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: in which Bronn is way over in his head when it comes to Jaime Lannister, Brienne is amenable to sharing and Jaime has a crash course in learning what's good for him.





	I heard that love was out of my control

**Author's Note:**

> SOOO this was supposed to be for jbweek day three, _obsidian_ , and obv. I ran late and I'll probably catch up with yesterday and today in the next few hours. Meanwhile have a late day three OT3 of doom (yeah okay I also planned that on purpose too bad I WAS LATE).
> 
> Disclaimer, not the serious kind: I realized I wanted this to exist like A LOT after 7x05 during which I was admittedly shipping Jaime and Bronn like woah after Bronn fished him out of the water - listen THE SHOW IS A FANFIC BY NOW I MIGHT AS WELL ROLL WITH IT - and then I went '... okay but why picking if I could have those three in a thing I mean Bronn and Brienne *would* totally bond over needing to prevent Jaime from taking bad life decisions RIGHT' aaaand I figured I'd just go with it. Also: if I had gone with book characterizations this'd have been _wildly_ different but as it's show characterization pls guys give me some leeway, I know book!Brienne would need a lot more time to actually be fine with this kind of arrangement but I came to terms with show!Brienne not being the same and - just, guys, I wanted to put Jaime in the middle of those two, bear with me.
> 
> (also, there's actual obsidian present in this fic but let's just say that if you read [what obsidian apparently means according to people into this stuff](https://meanings.crystalsandjewelry.com/obsidian/) there's... idk, stuff that kind of is relevant to the philosophy of this damned fic. idk I generally think this whole MEANINGS OF STONES stuff is bullshit but hey who am I to say no XD)
> 
> Also, **warning** if it's the kind of thing that bothers you: this is Bronn POV. Which means that there's a _high_ amount of cussing/cursing tossed at every other turn. Like, this is Deadwood-level of cussing. If that stuff isn't your cup of tea just have it in mind because there's also a fair amount of c-word that's obviously not meant seriously half of the time but... yeah. I warned you. (Instead, if you liked the Deadwood approach, this is most probably your thing.)
> 
> For last: nothing belongs to me, the show belongs to d&d for better or worse (most times worse and the Jaime/Bronn thing was about one of the five things in S7 I actively liked lol), the title is from a Leonard Cohen song and yeah have some porn. Thank you and see you in a few hours with day four and five themes. /o\

“And _where do you think you were going_?”

So: Jaime’s fucking _shocked_ face as he stops his horse on his merry way to the North and turns around to see that Bronn has _indeed_ caught up to him is admittedly priceless.

Well, good thing it is, because given what Bronn gave up to go after him, it’d better have been –

Though all things considered, staying back wouldn’t have been a good idea whatsoever.

“ _Bronn_?”

“Who else?” Bronn snorts. “I mean, was there any other cunt dumb enough to go after you in King’s Landing? Probably _not_ , though I guess they might’ve been dumber for staying.”

He catches up to Jaime, who has thankfully stopped the damned horse, and who’s still looking at him as if he can’t fathom why the hell he’d follow him.”

“But – I _did_ leave you with –”

Bronn sighs. “Yes, yes, you left me that money _and_ that castle _and_ if I showed up at the lady’s keep with your piece of paper they’d have considered the marriage already done, except that as much as I have to admit that you _do_ pay your bloody debts, have you considered that I’d like to fucking _enjoy_ my castle and my money?” He scoffs. “And given that your sister’s a completely bloody insane cunt who’ll get the entire South killed, I have a feeling that going with you might eventually save my hide, and if I play my cards right – I suppose there’ll be castles in the North. What’s with that face?”

Thing is, he _had_ noticed Jaime wincing when he called his sister _a bloody insane cunt_ , but he hadn’t denied it – well, given that he just _turned his cloak on her_ , he probably realized how hypocritical it’d be to disagree. But now he’s looking at Bronn like – he doesn’t fucking know what.

Though, maybe, like _he hadn’t expected anyone to actually follow_ , if not to bring him back.

Fuck it and fuck the day he ever ran into a Lannister, his life would’ve been so much bloody easier if he _hadn’t_.

 _But you know you wouldn’t have changed it for the world_ , a small voice tells him, and he proceeds to silence it.

“I – nothing,” Jaime says, but then he kind of half-smiles at him – _what_ – and shakes his head, grabbing back the reins. “But – it’s nice to know I won’t get bored on my way to Winterfell.”

“Oh, so that’s it, you just didn’t want to get _bored_ ,” Bronn snorts. “Seriously, I might be a dumb cunt here but at least I’m not a suicidal one, and I guess neither are you. That said, she _is_ going to send people after you.”

“ _What_?”

“That’s what people whispered before I snuck out. So. If I were you, I’d try to get to Winterfell faster. Just a friendly advice.”

“Right,” Jaime says, and _why is he not even japing back_? A month ago, he’d have.

Gods, when the _fuck_ did Bronn get to know the guy well enough to actually realize he’s not being his usual self?

Then again, given that he’s just turned his back on his insane cunt of a sister, maybe it’s normal.

“We should go then.”

“ _Please_ , make fucking way,” Bronn says, and spurs his horse to go forward, falling into step with Jaime’s.

It’s going to be a long ride.

He honestly hopes it’s as uneventful as possible.

\--

It is, in fact, uneventful, until they decide to stop for the night when it becomes way too dark to go on and they can’t find an inn, but there might be soldiers in inns, so they should probably steer clear at least until they’re some four or five days away from King’s Landing.

Jaime is surprisingly silent as they put on a small fire and lay out their bedrolls – obviously, geniuses that they both are, neither of them left with food.

Bronn _really_ hopes he can kill some rabbit tomorrow or, even better, that they find an inn at least to _eat_. He’s also not liking that Jaime hasn’t said _one_ bloody thing since they set out North. It’s not like the damned golden cunt he is – he doesn’t shut up, ever, and maybe Bronn _did_ get adjusted to the man’s stupid chattering.

“Lannister, you sure you aren’t going to faint on me or something?”

“ _What_?”

“You look weird,” Bronn says, figuring he won’t say _you don’t look like yourself at all_.

Jaime shrugs. “Guess I’m tired.” Then he doesn’t say anything anymore.

 _What the fuck_.

Bronn would quite like to know what in the Seven Hells did his idiot of a sister tell him, but he knows he wouldn’t get a reply, so he huffs and gets ready to go to bed. Hopefully he’s going to sleep at least until morning, and patience if the ground is hard and the weather is fucking cold.

\--

He does sleep. For a while. But when he opens his eyes, it’s definitely still dark, and it’s not because he has woken up on his own.

It’s because Jaime’s tossing and turning in his bedroll, and Bronn can see his shoulders visibly shaking under the blanket, and – yes, Bronn was having a way nicer time sleeping than he is, apparently.

He shrugs and figures he’ll go and try to sleep because he doubts Jaime would want him to know that he’s not being all calm and collected, but then he lets out a half-scream that on one side makes Bronn’s skin crawl because it wasn’t anything he was expecting and it sounds like he’s really having the worst kind of nightmare, but on the other –

Shit, what if anyone hears them? They can’t afford to make too much noise.

Fuck it.

He grabs his blanket, moves his bedroll next to Jaime and arrives just in time because he can hear that he’s about to scream again, and –

Listen, Bronn grew up in a shitty part of _Flea Bottom_ which is an already shitty place in itself, the last time he and either of his parents had any physical contact it was punching, he’s been a mercenary all his fucking life, and he doesn’t do gentle or _proper_ , and he needs Jaime to shut the fuck up, which is why he moves behind him and puts a hand on his mouth and the other on his arm to keep him still, and he can feel the moment Jaime wakes up because his body becomes slightly less tense.

Slightly.

“Calm the fuck down, ‘s just me,” he sighs, “but I couldn’t let the entire bloody forest know we’re here. You awake?”

Jaime nods.

“Fine,” Bronn says, and moves his hand away from Jaime’s mouth. He kind of expects Jaime to roll over and tell him to never try that move on him again, but instead he just – lays there _breathing_ and doing nothing.

“Thanks,” he finally says. “You were right.”

Bronn expects a quip, a joke, _anything_.

He gets bloody nothing.

Looks like the golden cunt is _definitely_ not all right.

He figures it’s a good thing that Jaime doesn’t see him as he raises his head to the sky and wonders why, _why_ the fuck did he ever end up tangled with the Lannisters.

“You cold?” He asks instead.

“Some, but I’ll live,” Jaime replies, feebly.

“ _Fine_. Let’s just share the damned blanket, I was cold, too.”

He lays down, throwing himself under Jaime’s blanket and his own over the both of them. It’s marginally warmer now, and he hasn’t taken his hand from Jaime’s arm, and Jaime hasn’t told him not to.

Well, body heat can’t hurt, he decides, and leaves his hand where it is before falling asleep.

\--

The next morning, Jaime doesn’t remark on the fact that they slept attached at the hip, and Bronn doesn’t goad him, if anything because he hasn’t spent entirely too much time around him in the last few years to _not_ know that something’s wrong and that he won’t receive an answer if he asks.

Shit, maybe he should’ve stuck with Tyrion. _He_ was the most reasonable one out of the three, though – though maybe he’s being kind of unfair.

Thing is, he thinks as he mounts on his horse and follows Jaime back on the road, hoping they find an inn because he’s _really_ fucking starving, that Tyrion was definitely the most reasonable of the three, and possibly the smarter one, if talking about book smarts, and Cersei’s an insane cunt now and was a power-hungry maybe just slightly less insane before, but Jaime’s just – half of the time Bronn wants to punch him in the face for being a complete idiot without any sense of self-preservation nor of what’s good for him, especially when he’s around his sister. _That_ tends to turn him into an entirely worse person than he actually is –

Because _the other_ half of the time, Bronn _doesn’t_ want to punch him in the face.

Or he wouldn’t have jumped in front of a fucking dragon for the man – of course he wants his payment, but no castles or gold are worth getting burned out of existence.

The other half of the time, he’s the _idiotic_ golden cunt who’ll _jump in front of a dragon_ to save his almost defeated army without blinking, or the one whose eyes will turn soft when his ship sails in front of Tarth, or the one who’ll laugh at Bronn’s admittedly baser jokes, or the one who’ll spit blood until his left hand can’t hold a sword anymore during training, or the one who’ll _free his goddamned brother who’s condemned to death_ even if his sister doesn’t want him to (when _she_ certainly always was sure he’d do whatever she said, wasn’t she?) and who hasn’t told anyone why he killed the Mad King for years when he had perfectly good reasons and who _went into the Kingsguard at bloody fifteen_.

Given that a _good_ part of the time Bronn _has_ thought _if he’s a grown fucking adult why does he act like he’s six and ten_ _sometimes_ – that’s what gives a man some thought.

Well, at least apparently he realized what’s good for him now, and of course Bronn had to be an even bigger idiot and run after him.

He’s not going to tell a soul that he kind of wants to keep an eye on him if only so that he doesn’t get himself killed before he finds his precious wench, because like _hell_ it wasn’t her little speech in the Dragonpit that sent him on the _good for him_ path.

Also, Bronn’s suspected for _months_ that if Jaime ever decided to get the hell out of King's Landing, it’d have been because of the wench, and at this point maybe if they arrive in Winterfell _she’_ ll make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid.

For now, it seems like it’s on him.

Whatever. After all, Tyrion’s there, too, so his head’s most probably safe, and he’d rather _not_ be on the losing side whatever it is, and it certainly won’t be Cersei that will win over dead men or dragons.

Castles are plentiful in the North, after all, he tells himself as they ride on.

\--

They do find an inn, around midday – good, because if they hadn’t they’d have fainted sooner rather than later. Jaime keeps his mouth shut as he eats, and Bronn does the same, but as he makes quick work of his meat he realizes that Jaime _does_ look like he’s going to fall asleep on his feet. Not that sleeping on the ground paid Bronn any favors either – he’s not twenty anymore and it was fucking cold, at least before they shared the damned blanket.

“I’m asking for a room,” he says.

“ _What_? Bronn, there’s no time. We need to hurry, or –”

“Calm the fuck down,” Bronn says. “First, you’re about to fall asleep on your feet, I saw you almost nodding off twice, and last thing you need is fall from that horse and break your other arm. Also, if your sister sent people after us, they will be out during the day. If I get a room _for the afternoon_ you can sleep it off, no one is going to find either you or me and we can travel quicker during the night without being bloody uncomfortable on the ground. We’d also be less recognizable.”

Jaime stares at him, considering it, and Bronn knows he wants to go on, but then he shakes his head. “You’ve got a point and I’m beat. Fine. Get the room.”

He hands him a couple golden dragons and Bronn takes them – at least he should damned well pay.

\--

They’re given a fairly decent room, all things considered. Two large beds, or at least not _tiny_ , a fireplace, a window whose glass is still intact and enough space to actually have two people stretch their legs. Must’ve been that he paid in gold, Bronn reasons.

Jaime drops sitting on the bed closer to the window and Bronn doesn’t even try to ask if he needs help with his clothes or anything – that gold hand looks damn useless, but he has a feeling Jaime would punch him in the face with it if he tried to bring up the subject. Eventually, Jaime kicks off his shoes and outer layers and moves under the covers in his breeches and shirt. He keeps the hand on.

Bronn thinks it has to be fucking uncomfortable, but whatever suits him. He takes off his boots and lays down on the bed – he’s definitely in need of resting his back and shutting his eyes for a bit himself. Maybe if they can sleep straight until sunset he’ll be rested enough to last until the next one.

He also kind of hopes they catch up with the northern party before they actually arrive in Winterfell, if only because he’s not looking forward to ride _this_ fast, and they’d know about Cersei’s idiotic decisions sooner.

Well then, time to sleep.

He closes his eyes, relishing the warm and soft mattress behind his back.

\--

Then he opens them again, and _fuck_ , Jaime’s screaming again – good thing he thinks they’re the only people sleeping _during the damned day_. He scrambles to get out of bed, takes a moment to check the time – it’s still mid-afternoon – and moves to Jaime’s bedside, hoping he doesn’t have to physically shut him up again, but –

No, he’s not screaming anymore, but he’s still trashing around on his back, which is _not_ going to be good news with that damned hand that he can’t move for how heavy it is, and what the hell is he saying –

 _So what, you really would have me dead?,_ sounding like he’s bloody sobbing as he says it?

Oh, _shit_.

On one side, he should probably go to bed and hope Jaime wakes up on his own.

On the other –

He curses Jaime’s thrice-darned sister because honestly, Jaime _can_ be a cunt when he wants to but he’s a _decent_ one, and who the hell threatens to kill their twin who she claimed to _love_ until the day before?, and then he reaches out, grabs Jaime by the shoulders and shakes him strongly enough that he opens his eyes not long later.

“Cersei?”

“Not bloody likely,” Bronn sighs. “Cheer up. We’re in that inn and sunset’s still bloody far, and your sister’s nowhere to be seen.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jaime sighs, even though he sounds relieved. “ _Fuck_. Sorry to wake you up.”

“Never mind that. What the hell were you about before?”

“Sorry?”

“You were blathering about someone really wanting to execute you. _What the hell_?”

Jaime doesn’t quite look at him. Rather, he stares at the fireplace. “She threatened to kill me. If I left. She actually did give her _Ser Strong_ the order, or whatever the hell that monster is. She let me leave, but I think it was because she was too surprised to go through with it and she thought I wasn’t really going to.”

Fine, Bronn is not going to regret his choices.

“Well, then she sounds like she’s gone mad and we both picked the smart option, for once. And stop looking like that.”

“ _How_ do I look?”

“Like some beaten dog. The hell are you sad about? She threatened to kill you, she’s going to kill whoever’s left in King’s Landing because she’s completely, bloody mad and you know it, and as much as you can be a downright self-righteous and annoying cunt when you want to, you deserve better than that.”

… Shit, maybe he shouldn’t have put it in _those_ terms.

“I – I do _what_?”

Why the hell is Jaime looking at him as if _Bronn_ is the one who’s losing his wits?

“You think I didn’t notice? Or that your brother didn’t tell me anything about your charming sister? Please. You’re traveling North because you want to keep your word and do the good thing and she’s in King’s Landing having broken _hers_ and probably sending assassins after you because you dared tell her no, do you need more proof to see that she’s no good for anyone, least of all you?”

For a moment, Jaime looks like he’s going to argue.

But then – “Even if it was, I don’t think there’s much to do about it. But thanks anyway.”

“ _What_?”

“I don’t think that many people think we’re fundamentally different.”

“Don’t worry, the wench does.”

Bronn about starts laughing at Jaime’s completely surprised face – of course he wasn’t expecting Bronn to go there, but then again, Bronn _is not a damned idiot_.

“Don’t look like that,” Bronn says, “it’s obvious that you’re hoping _she_ keeps on seeing you as a fundamentally honorable idiot. We all heard that speech she gave you. And you still deserve better than doing your sister’s bloody bidding. You think you can go back to sleep now or what? The point of this was getting you to _rest_.”

“I wish I knew,” Jaime says, not quite looking at him still, and –

Wait, is his left hand _grasping at Bronn’s sleeve_?

 _When_ did it start and why didn’t he notice?

Bronn shakes his head. “Move over.”

“ _What_ –”

“Come on. What happens in the Kingsroad stays in the Kingsroad, and you _did_ sleep last night. Move over already, I want to sleep some more too.”

Jaime, for some kind of bloody miracle, _moves_ without complaining.

He doesn’t complain when Bronn throws an arm around his waist and tells him to go the hell back to sleep already.

Hells, he actually _tries to follow the advice._

Bronn is so surprised that he wasn’t questioned for a second that he can’t even fall back asleep, so he’s still awake when he realizes that Jaime is actually sleeping again. He’s barely making any noise – way different from most men Bronn’s ever bunked with, they all snored louder than _he_ ever did.

Bronn tries to _not_ think of how long it’s passed since he shared a bed with a woman and closes his eyes as well.

\--

When he wakes up, it’s sunset outside, Jaime’s somehow managed to turn so that he’s facing Bronn and is most probably hissing in pain because he dragged the fake right hand with, but other than that he definitely looks better than before.

Bronn rolls his eyes and unlaces the goddamned golden hand, putting it on the ground – they should be up in a short while, but no point in the idiot suffering as he sleeps for this last handful of minutes. He glances at the reddened skin around Jaime’s right wrist – that thing really shouldn’t be worn _all the time_ – and closes his eyes again. Maybe he can get a little more sleep –

And then Jaime moves closer and pressed up against him, _closer_ , and Bronn realizes that they might have a problem here.

He opens his eyes, and he finds himself staring into pretty green _mortified_ ones.

Bronn smirks.

“Well,” he says, “I should feel flattered. I mean, I doubt you haven’t been with a woman in some time now, have you?”

“ _No_ ,” Jaime groans. “Shit, _shit_ –”

“Hey, if you can get it up while sharing with me when before it was _your sister’_ s thing, I suppose it means I’m still desirable somehow. Oh, calm down, I know it happens. You think I never bunked with another man in my entire life?”

“Then I suppose you won’t have problems if I turn my back and take care of it?”

“No,” Bronn says, but then again –

 _Then again_ , fuck it. The guy’s obviously miserable and there’s a limit to how much miserableness Bronn can handle, and it’s just trading favors. It’s nothing that bloody deep.

“But if you want me to take care of it, I’m not saying I wouldn’t.”

Jaime, who was about to turn, moves back in his previous position. “Sorry, did you just say –”

“I said that what happens on the Kingsroad stays on the Kingsroad, and it’s not like I’ve never traded that kind of favor with anyone. I _know_ it’s because it happens if you sleep closely to other people, I’m not bloody daft, but there’s no reason why this afternoon should end in such an awkward way. So?”

“Fine,” Jaime says, “but I should return the favor.”

Bronn snorts, moving closer.

“Well, as long as you don’t use that monstrosity, who am I to say no to such a pretty face, Lannister?”

And then he doesn’t let Jaime reply – he moves closer, spits on his and slides it under Jaime’s breeches, where he’s _still_ hard, good, not that Bronn _isn’t_

( _who wouldn’t be, when you’re sleeping next to a man who has no right to look as pretty as he does even after a maiming and all the shit he’s been through, anyway?_ )

and he smirks as Jaime moans the moment Bronn wraps his hand around his dick and gives it a tentative stroke.

Look at _that_ , he thinks, and does it again, though less tentatively than before, Jaime’s left hand going to his shoulder, the two of them moving closer, and _fuck_ but Jaime is a sight maybe a few seconds into it – he has his eyes half-closed but you can still see the green underneath, his cheeks are flushed a healthy dark pink and his golden blonde hair is sticking to his face and he’s still moaning softly as Bronn jerks him off, taking his time but without going _too_ slow, and when he finally goes still and spills against his hand, Jaime’s left is _really_ grabbing his shoulder strong enough to hurt, but he doesn’t mind. He kind of likes it if there’s an edge to it, and he thinks, _I kind of want to kiss him_ as Jaime breathes out in relief and lets out those lovely, small moans, but –

No. He’s not going _there_.

He doesn’t move his hand away until he’s sure Jaime’s done, and he’s about to say he can do fine without the favor being returned, but then Jaime is taking a deeper breath and inching closer, moving his left hand from Bronn’s shoulder to his waist, and –

“Lie back,” he says, “or I’m going to pull on some fucking muscle if I have to do this.”

Bronn does, Jaime staying half on top of him and half on his side, and _fine_ , it’s obvious that he did jack off with his right hand before if he did (Bronn figures any healthy guy would), but he’s not lacking in enthusiasm and or will to try, and so even if it’s not the steadier handjob he’s ever received and it’s obvious that Jaime’s never jerked _another man_ off he’s still not doing a bad job of it, not at all – he has rough hands and long fingers and just _looking_ at his face would make anyone hard, Bronn supposes, and sure as hell _he_ is.

It’s really not a surprise that in between the fact that he hasn’t done this with someone else in a while, the fact that Jaime is _really_ intent on getting him off in spite of obviously not being adjusted to jerk other people off and how rough but _careful_ is fingers are being as they stroke him to completion, that he comes not really long after Jaime starts his ministrations, and he falls down on the bed thinking that it’s too bad it likely won’t happen again, but it was damn _good_.

“Well,” he tells Jaime as they disentangle themselves, “there’s room for improvement, but you’re starting off fairly well.”

“How charitable of you,” Jaime snorts back, and Bronn almost wants to thank the gods for the man actually giving him an answer worthy of his usual arsehole self for the first time since they left King’s Landing.

\--

Turns out he had a good idea – the night is a lot safer to travel. They don’t run into any Lannister soldiers, they can take the main road without risking being seen and they end up covering more ground than they had on the previous day.

It also means that by mid-morning the following day they’re definitely in the Riverlands already but they’re also both dead tired and as far as Bronn’s concerned, he could definitely do with more food and some more sleep. Jaime looks like he _would_ try to get to Winterfell at once if he could, which should be fairly worrying, but Bronn just figures that since he obviously realized he was better off fessing up to the wench now he’s aching to make up for all the lost time he could have been fucking _her_ rather than having his sister _fuck him_ , in all the senses of the word.

Which is fine with Bronn, but he also would like the both of them to not drop dead of exhaustion in the middle of the road.

Then he looks at his left side, just outside the main road, and –

“That house looks abandoned,” he says.

“What?”

“The over there. The door’s bloody open but there’s no smoke out of the fireplace or anything.”

“What do you suggest, hiding there?”

“It _did_ work yesterday, didn’t it? And both us and our horses are about do faint. Y’know, the wench would most probably like it better if you showed up alive.”

“Bronn –”

“You haven’t even bloody tried to deny it, have you? Let’s just get over there already.”

Jaime seems to ponder it, then he nods. “Fine. You go first if there’s actually someone inside.”

“Look at the fair maiden who needs _me_ to defend her honor,” Bronn scoffs, and doesn’t miss that Jaime’s face goes _slightly_ red as he tells him to fuck off.

He shakes his head, ties his horse to what’s left of the fence and walks inside with his sword out, but no, he was right. It’s just one large room, _definitely_ abandoned. There’s some old wood on the side, a pallet of hay in the corner and a few chairs scattered all over, but it’s obvious that whoever had a small farm here hasn’t lived in it for a hell of long time.

“Get in,” he says, “we even have a bed.”

“Yeah, in which both of us would _barely_ fit,” Jaime sighs.

“Well, I’m not sleeping on the bloody ground and neither are you. Lay down, I’ll light a fire.”

Jaime doesn’t offer help, if anything because with _one_ hand that’d just mean being in the way – Bronn makes sure it’s burning, at least the old wood was dry, gets a few blankets out of his pack (he _did_ come prepared, one of them at least) and moves next to Jaime on the pallet, throwing them over the both of them.

“Well, at least it’s bloody warm,” he says, and then –

Right, he’s not getting an answer if Jaime’s sleeping already, isn’t he?

He should be worried that Jaime’s letting his bloody guard down like that, then realizes that if he’s doing that _he’s probably assuming Bronn’s watching his sorry arse_ and gods, he hadn’t signed up for this shit.

For a moment, he considers going to sleep the way they are, but then he remembers the previous two nights.

He puts an arm around Jaime’s waist and moves his chest up against Jaime’s back.

 _Then_ he goes to sleep.

\--

 _I’ll be thrice fucked_ , he thinks when he opens his eyes and sees that it’s almost sunset and realizes that the both of them slept right through the damned day and Jaime didn’t stir once.

Bronn would _really_ like to know what it says about this entire blasted situation, then he decides it’s no point and he slips out of bed, bringing only his dagger with and getting out of the house to see if _maybe_ he can find some pigeon to kill or _something_ , because he’d really like to eat.

He _does_ find one, and not long later he’s roasting it over the rekindled fire while Jaime stirs awake.

“The hell is that?”

“I killed a pigeon. You want to eat or not?”

“Right,” Jaime groans. “I’ll be there. Did I really sleep through the entire day?”

 _Most probably because I was there holding you the way most women I’ve been with liked to be held,_ he doesn’t say. “Are you complaining?”

“No, of course not. Gods, how long is to the North?”

“Another two days if we keep this up,” Bronn says. “We can just hope their entire party traveled slower and we’ll catch up before having to get to Winterfell.”

Also because _then_ he won’t be in this godsforsaken position anymore and he won’t have to worry about why a guy who’s _leagues_ off limits – fuck’s sake, Bronn’s spent his entire life not even giving out his father’s last name not because it was a _bastard_ name but because he hated the arsehole with all his might and his mother was no better – and now he’s got the _Lannister heir_ , or at least the one in name, trusting _him_ to cover his back?

He’d like to say this is all kinds of wrong, then he remembers _he_ jumped in front of a bloody dragon to save the idiot’s hide.

He tells himself he can’t wait to deliver the wench the responsibility.

\--

They do cover more ground. He does notice Jaime looking progressively more relieved the more they advance North, even if of course it’s cold as fuck and both of them are underdressed for it – hopefully they’ll find some clothes soon, and meanwhile it means they sleep under the same three blankets for the next two days.

It also means that he finds out that Jaime _is_ a good study when it comes to using his right hand to jerk off a man in need, and Bronn returns the favor because that would be the bloody least even if he, admittedly, _is_ harboring a fantasy of actually using his mouth rather than his hand, and maybe he’s also harboring another one where _Jaime_ uses his mouth on him, but he has a feeling _that_ is utterly and completely off limits.

(Too bad – he’d be a sight, Bronn thinks.)

Not that he’d do _any_ of that on the goddamned ground, which is the situation they have to deal with right now, so he figures both of them will stay in his head.

That is, until they’ve gone past Moat Caitlin, so it won’t be long before either they catch up with the Stark army or they reach Winterfell, and as they lay down for the day as usual he notices that Jaime’s literally grimacing every time he moves his right arm.

“How long has it been since you took that thing off?” Bronn asks when he realizes he hasn’t seen him without the bloody hand in a lot of time.

Jaime shrugs. “Since we left that farm.”

“Bloody – gods, you’re such a ridiculous golden cunt, _why_? It can’t be healthy.”

He shrugs again. Says nothing. Then – “I should get used to it.”

“… _How_ so?”

Jaime says nothing and resolutely doesn’t look at him from under the blankets – Bronn is kindling a fire, which no one will notice _in daylight_.

Right. He’s going to have to get there on his own. Then again, Jaime’s a lot of things but _complicated_ ain’t one of them – you can read him like a goddamned book. So, if he’s not saying a thing it’s probably related to his sister. But his sister’s not _here_ and they’re heading towards _another_ blonde who would be a much better option for anyone’s sanity, _especially_ Jaime’s. And if he’s not taking the hand off –

“Fuck me,” Bronn groans, “you can’t be assuming that _maybe_ people will think less of you if you don’t wear that shit all the time.”

Jaime _does_ look at him at that. With a face that says, _how the hell did you guess it_.

“Bronn, do I have to remind you they have plenty of reasons to want my head? I don’t need anyone to think I can’t get by.”

“And that means you have to wear _that_ even when you sleep?”

“How do I get used to it otherwise?”

“And who the hell’s ever told you there’s any less to think of you if you’re not wearing it?”

No answer.

Of course.

“Let me guess, your cunt of a sister.”

“Bronn –”

“She _blew up half of King’s Landing_ , she’d be one regardless. So. Her?”

“… Yes,” Jaime finally admits.

Bronn _hates his fucking life_ , because now he’s also wishing he could tell Cersei Lannister a few choice words about how her golden cunt of a brother, as bad as he can get, deserved a _lot_ better than that, but of course that’s completely out of the question.

He lets the fire burn, then gets under the covers, but in front of Jaime, and pulls the thing off without too many ceremonies.

“ _What –_ ”

“You idiot, can’t you see your skin’s on fucking fire underneath? I’ll just keep it under my head,” he says, shoving the hand in his pack and then putting it in place of a pillow, “it’s not like I’ll have many reasons to _think less of you_ for it when I don’t have to remind you who you used to practice with.”

“Fine,” Jaime relents, and _why isn’t he putting up a damned fight_ , that’s what Bronn would like to know. He has a feeling he’d understand at once if he knew what the fuck did he and his sister tell each other before he left, but he’s not dumb enough to ask and so he keeps his mouth shut and settles on feeling thankful that at least Jaime’s not insisting to sleep with the damned thing on.

He’d go to sleep.

He really _would_.

Jaime does a moment later – gods, he _is_ more tired than Bronn is, but then again _he_ wasn’t the one dragging that dead weight across. And he’d like to follow him, except that Jaime’s right wrist is right in the middle of them and it’s _day_ so whether under the blankets or not he can see the angry, reddened skin around it, and he feels a pang of sympathy just at the sight because _shit_ that must fucking hurt, and he _doesn’t know_ what possesses him to brush his fingers against the worst of the scarring.

Sure as hell he doesn’t know why Jaime reacts to it by curling slightly closer.

He does it again, rubbing his thumb slightly over the area. Jaime keeps on fucking sleeping inches from him.

Gods, he shouldn’t even go _there_ like this, but the motion is steady and it’s somehow calming to do it mindlessly, enough that he ends up falling asleep as he does, and when he wakes up he realizes that he spent the day with his palm wrapped around Jaime’s right wrist and when he tries to move it away Jaime curls even closer instead.

Bronn wants to shout _just stop before you notice the fucking effect you have on me_ , and he doesn’t even deny to himself that he’s thinking that he kind of wants to lean forward and kiss the golden idiot, except that –

No.

It’s already out of any reality that they trade favors the way they have, _kissing_ would be out of the bloody question.

He moves his left arm from Jaime’s wrist to his waist instead, and he goes back to sleep long enough that he wakes up as the sky begins to turn pink, and Jaime’s groaning back to wakefulness, too, and _of course_ the moment they brush against each other they’re both hard – Bronn just raises an eyebrow as Jaime nods, and he moves his hand to Jaime’s breeches, but –

“I think for once _I_ should do the honors first,” Jaime says, and maybe it’s because they’re getting closer and he feels like this is some kind of repayment for having always started first, but Bronn isn’t the kind of person who looks at gift horses in the mouth and says nothing as Jaime’s left hand does away with the laces on his breeches and his fingers wrap around his cock and starts stroking a lot more efficiently and with a lot more sureness than they had when this all started, and of course Bronn then turns on his side and pays back the favor, because like hell he’s going to pass on the chance to do it when it’s most likely the last time it’ll happen.

What he knows is that by the time they’re both spent and letting out small, fast intakes of breath, trying to catch air, Jaime’s _under_ him and completely relaxed and not with an ounce of tension in his shoulders, and Bronn _really_ wants to lean down and fucking kiss him because how can you _not_ want to, but he’s probably someone with a better conscience than he always told himself, because he doesn’t.

But, he thinks as he leans back on the side and waits for Jaime to catch his breath –

He kind of wishes this wasn’t most probably the last time.

Alas, all good things must come to an end, he thinks wistfully, and doesn’t move until Jaime tells him that they should leave.

He’ll have a few fond memories to look back upon, he figures, and at worst, well, if he can’t find any woman to release half of the pent-up tension he still has thrumming under his skin, he _does_ have a lot to think about when he’s alone with his right hand.

Hopefully Jaime won’t need to do the same with his fucking left.

\--

He was right in his calculations – at dawn, they’re looking at the small Stark camp, not too far in the distance. There’s fires on, people are obviously starting to wake up and Bronn’s stomach clenches as he smells some _decent_ food that’s not wild pigeon cooking.

Also, they’re not so far that they can’t see people moving up and about, and a blue armor and dark cloak are fairly visible, if the background is stark gray and the ground is covered in half-melted snow.

“There she is,” Bronn says, “see, we managed it. Now how about – _what the hell are you doing_?”

“What?” Jaime quips back, but Bronn had seen him and the darned _sad_ expression on his face.

“You almost killed yourself to ride over here this fast and now you’re lookin’ gloomy as if you’re going to a bloody funeral? The hell is wrong with you? She’s there, she’ll be glad to see you _fucked loyalty_ , what’s your damned problem?”

“It’s just,” he says, not quite looking at Bronn, “it’s you and me. They think we’re coming with _an army_. And – two men isn’t – much. Especially when one of them is me. I should brought more –”

“Of course, people wouldn’t gone against their queen’s orders to follow you,” Bronn sighs.

“I don’t know, but I should have _tried_ , and I didn’t, and I assumed that if I showed up it’d be enough but what if I really was an idiot about this –”

Bronn is so _not_ letting him go _there_ if it kills him. “ _Excuse me_ , are you picking this moment to start feeling like shit about yourself just when I was thinking you pulled your head out of your ass and realized what was better for you? Fuck me sideways, you’re an idiot not because you got here, you’re an idiot because you think _she_ ’d care that you don’t have a bloody army. I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

He holds Jaime’s stare, and at least Jaime’s glaring back so not all hope is lost there, but he’d really just like to know _what the hell_ he’s even mulling over. The camp is right _there_ , why is he not running?

“What in the seven hells did your sister tell you before you left that’s preventing you to go and do the damned thing?” Bronn sighs.

“How –”

“ _Who else_ ,” Bronn snorts.

Jaime sighs.

Then tells him.

And –

“I – the more I think about it the more it sounds like she had a point when she said I was being the stupidest person in –”

Bronn isn’t hearing a second of this.

“You’re a suicidal cunt, all right, and I won’t say throwing yourself in front of a dragon wasn’t fucking stupid, but if I hear one more word of it when if _you_ ’re the stupidest Lannister around I’d like to know where it leaves a woman who’d rather see an entire realm die so that _she_ could die with her arse on that iron trap you call a throne while you wouldn’t sit on it if paid to. And if you don’t get down to the Stark camp I’m personally dragging you, and I have a feeling I wouldn’t be as nice as the _Lady Brienne_ might. Shut up and ride or I’m making you.”

 _And I’m going to have a good talk with the lady before sunset_ , he doesn’t say. Not that he’s not sure that she’d treat him miles better than his sister ever did, but she probably doesn’t have a bloody clue of what went on these last few months and she should.

He holds Jaime’s stare for a moment and then – why is the insufferable golden cunt actually _smiling_ at him but not his usual grin, something a whole lot sweeter and softer than he’s adjusted to seeing on his face?

“Right. Fine. You have a point. Just – thank you, I guess.”

“Thank – _what_ ,” Bronn says, but Jaime’s already riding downwards and he has a feeling this is where the conversation ends.

Well, _at least that_. He huffs and follows Jaime towards the Stark camp and hopes that at least the lady has something to offer them for breakfast.

\--

Then they get there and he realizes that he’s better off asking Pod instead, because the moment he arrives Jaime’s just dismounted and he’s talking to Brienne who’s staring at him with the face of someone who was just given ten nameday presents at once and who can’t believe he actually is _here_.

He’s in time to hear Jaime cringe as he says, “I’m sorry it’s just the two of us but I couldn’t risk it in case she sent someone after me,” and to see Brienne shaking her head and telling him to not be daft, of course she gets it, and they should send a raven to White Harbor so that Jon Snow and the dragon queen are warned, but before she does it she looks at him with those large blue eyes of hers and says _no one thought you’d listen to me but I knew you would_ and they’re bloody hugging each other after, and –

Fine.

They’ll figure it out, he thinks, and he can’t even find it in himself to feel resentment for it – after all what happens on the Kingsroad stays on the Kingsroad and honestly, he hadn’t even thought it’d ever go farther than that and he’s understood Jaime’s had feelings for her for _months_ by now.

He’ll still talk to her, later.

Now, he goes to find Pod – he _really_ wants to eat some goddamned breakfast.

\--

“My lady, would you care for a word?” Bronn asks her that evening while Jaime’s sleeping somewhere in her tent – Bronn is currently bunking with Pod and he’s _also_ exhausted from being up for one entire day, but he has to tell her before they get over themselves and fuck already.

“Ser,” she replies courteously and motions for him to sit next to her, “please do.”

Well, at least she’s courteous and she’s not looking at him like he bought off his knighthood.

Which might _not_ be entirely untrue, but who the hell cares.

“Right,” he says, “I’m not a man for fancy words.”

“Ser,” she says, “I’ve been traveling with _Sandor Clegane_ for the last few weeks and I’ve spent a lot of time in Renly’s camp. If you think I want to hear fancy words because I’m a woman, you’re sorely wrong.”

“Then it makes things easier. Very well. How is he doing?”

“Ser Jaime, you mean? Well enough, I think. Why?”

“Has he fessed up already?”

“… _Fessed up_?”

“Right. He hasn’t. The bloody – never mind. Very well. My lady, you told him to _fuck loyalty_ , didn’t you?”

“I – I did?”

“Well, he heard you – I don’t know if he’d have gone through with this if you hadn’t put him in his place and reminded him there was someone in this wretched kingdom who cares about his _word_ and who’d give a fuck about it and about his charming personality. Anyway, I have a feeling he might have decided his loyalty’s to _you_ , and that he _quite_ wants to fuck loyalty.”

“ _Ser_ , are you saying that –”

“I’m saying that golden cunt has been in love with you for a hell of a long time and might have realized it just recently, and that his sister was no good for him and has been _worse_ these last few months, and that before we arrived he was thinking you’d be disappointed in him because he showed up on his lonesome.”

“ _What_? I never would –”

“Go tell him. Possibly after telling him that you’d be amenable to let him _fuck loyalty_ , and don’t look at me like _that_ , it’s plenty obvious you both want to. I have no doubts that you’ll be better for him than anyone else could ever be, but since he’s not going to tell you, _someone_ should.”

“I – I see,” she says, looking like she _is_ taking the information in, and at least she hasn’t punched him in the face already. “I’m not going to ask you if you’re sure because it’s obvious that you are.”

“See, at least _one_ out of you is not the kind of cunt who doesn’t listen to others. Hell, never mind, you’re too honorable to be one.”

“ _He_ is, too,” she says, defensively.

“See, you’re already taking his side. I think you and him shall get along splendidly,” Bronn grins. “I’ll go catch some sleep now, since I _also_ have been up for one entire day.” He wants to tell her, _would you like a few pointers on how he’d like being woken up_ , but then doesn’t – the poor woman doesn’t deserve anything like that. “Ah, one last thing. He’s decided that people might think him weak or something if he doesn't wear that gold monstrosity all the time and it’s not good for his health, if he doesn’t take it off just do it yourself.”

She sends him a _look_ that he doesn’t know how to place – is it… understanding?

 _Why_?

“I will,” she says. “My thanks, Ser. It was an enlightening conversation,” she says, and Bronn leaves her be.

\--

That night, he _is_ woken up, but not by screaming.

He’s woken up by the fact that _someone_ is most definitely fucking in the next tent over, or at least they’re up to activities that include fooling around on a bedroll.

 _Good_ , he thinks, _she listens to advice, at least_.

Pod is snoring, bless him, and Bronn is not going to tell a soul that after a fairly long while of moaning and soft whispers and more moaning coming from the other tent he ends up _fairly_ bothered and he grunts as he shoves his hand down his breeches – shit, it’s nowhere near as nice as it was when _Jaime_ did it, and he hopes the golden arse hasn’t spoiled that for him or he’s _fucked_ , but he’ll have to make do.

\--

The next day, he stays behind as he watches those two leave the tent to join the others breaking their fast.

She has slightly more ruffled hair and doesn’t betray _too_ much, even if her eyes light up whenever they land on him.

He looks fucking _glowing_ , fuck’s sake. The same way he had that last night they exchanged favors, except _more_ because of course _she_ was the one he was thinking about and the one he wanted to be with.

For a moment, nothing happens, and then her hand curls around his as they sit down and he looks like he could break down crying in happiness, because of course he couldn’t do that _before_ now, could he?

He smiles in spite of himself. Good. He did his job. She understood what he meant. Now if undead men don’t kill them all they might even have a chance at being happy for longer than a few months, and as far as he’s concerned –

There’ll be _some_ castle in the north, he thinks, shrugging.

\--

“Ser Bronn?”

He almost chokes on his stew – why is _she_ looking for him? Not that he’s too surprised, but they’ve been in Winterfell for a few days, everyone has been warned that they’re not getting any help from King’s Landing and in between his brother, Brienne, Sansa and Bran Stark being _forgiving_ they all managed to convince Daenerys Targaryen that Jaime’s head should stay on his shoulders, which is all good since it’s exactly what they had been hoping for. That said, he hadn’t thought Brienne would spend any time conversing with _him_ at this point.

“Can I help you?”

“J – Ser Jaime had interesting stories about how he survived running in front of a dragon, before.”

“Woman, _I_ told you to fuck him already, you don’t need to pretend you dropped that _Ser_ when it comes to him.”

Her cheeks go slightly redder at that, and it makes him feel a lot less intimidated given how tall she is.

“Fine. He might have said he didn’t get roasted just because you jumped in front of the damned dragon and didn’t make him drown.”

“He might’ve been right, and I still don’t know what I was thinking when I did that. In retrospective, no fucking castle was worth a death by dragon.”

She sends him a look that suggests she’s not buying what he’s selling. “Well,” she says, “I think it sounds like it took a lot of bravery. And I – I honestly was kind of upset he’d go towards his own death like _that_ ,” she admits.

Bronn snorts. “Don’t I know that,” he replies. “I mean, do you think I was calling that a sensed thing to do when I jumped after him?”

“I should hope you weren’t.”

“I was thinking he was being a suicidal cunt.”

Why is she _slightly_ smiling now? “Well, the sentiment isn’t too wrong,” she tells him. “Then again, he _did_ jump in a bear pit to save _my_ life, so can I even complain?”

“What news, he’s _always_ been a suicidal cunt,” Bronn sighs. “ _Please_ don’t let him be one if you’re keeping an eye on him.”

“Oh, I won’t,” she says, “but what I wanted to say is that two sets of eyes are better than one, so you’re welcome to keep on doing it.”

“I’m not jumping in front of any more bloody dragons, my lady.”

“That’s fine, I guess that’d be my turn at this point.”

Fuck it all, he can understand why Jaime _does_ like her. Who wouldn’t, when she obviously bloody _means_ it?

“I’ll leave it to you,” he says, “but I heard that.”

“Good. Because – Ser, I noticed you’ve been minding your business and I understand why you would, but if I may be blunt –”

“ _Seriously_? Of course you can, since when I’m not blunt?”

“He doesn’t have that many friends other than – well. Me or people who are related to him. I think he could handle having you around instead of _giving us space_ or whatever it is you think you’re doing. Have a good day.”

He watches her go and thinks, _of course, sure, except that I cannot exactly stop thinking about the fact that I’d enjoy a last favors trading for old times’ sake and I’m not such a wretched man that I’d come in between the two of you._

\--

He’s _not_ relieved any further when that night he wakes up with his dick aching for how hard it is and he definitely dreamed about _those two_ fucking, without even being involved in the equation.

Fuck it all, he needs to find himself a whore or a wildling woman who’ll have him for a few nights or _something_. Maybe it’ll set him fucking straight.

\--

He _does_ find a willing and available spearwife.

They do have a lot of fun that evening.

The next evening, he has the damned dream again.

Fuck.

It.

All.

\--

Fuck it all especially because now he’s started to notice _her_ , too, and not just because admittedly she and Jaime make a fairly _good_ pair when standing next to each other. Fine, she’s not pretty, or tiny, and her breasts are nonexistent, and she’s taller than the both of them and she’s not at all what people would consider attractive, but other than the pretty blue eyes – she’s _strong_ as hell, she does seem to have impossibly long legs under her breeches, she makes sparring look like a goddamned dance and while she’s nowhere near as sharp as _he_ was when he tried to make Jaime fight with his left, she’s not letting him get too comfortable and she keeps up a challenge, but at the same time there’s a softness to the way she looks at him or to the way her fingers wrap around his when they’re talking or during supper, and he’s fairly sure no one has tried to ask them _what_ is it about because then she’d end them. Her, or Sansa Stark, or Jon Snow, or Tyrion – good thing they all convinced Daenerys Targaryen that her father wasn’t worth keeping alive and that Bran Stark holds Jaime no ill will for _that_ accident so no one dares bringing it up.

And she _could_. End them.

And he can see why Jaime would be smitten with her and why she’s entirely better for him than _anyone_ ever could, his sister first and foremost, and now he’s thricely fucked because at least _before_ he only had _him_ to deal with when it came to feeling attracted to people entirely beyond his league, now he has _her_ , too.

He sure as hell hope the castle Jon Snow (or Jon Targaryen, at this point? He still hasn’t changed his name) finds him is worth all this goddamned hassle.

If he had known he’d get _this_ meddling with noblemen and kings he’d have stayed a bloody sellsword, he tells himself.

(Except that he knows that _no_ , he wouldn’t have changed things. Not at all. As much as he likes to tell himself otherwise.)

\--

Still. She went all the way to tell him to _not be a stranger_ or whatever, so he offers to take her place while sparring a few times and doesn’t go on the other side of the table just to leave them in peace, nor he keeps his interactions with people named Lannister mostly to Tyrion, and it’s obvious that the man is actually… happy to see him back on the premises? What in the Seven Hells?

“Where did you even end up sulking?” Jaime asks him when he shows up in the yard, and Bronn could actually thank a few gods since he’s smirking as he used to and doesn’t look like the half-wreck of a person who left King’s Landing with him.

“I wasn’t sulking, I was making sure you and the lady would spend your quality time without nuisance. So, ready to get beaten?”

Jaime smirks back as he says that he is, and Bronn wants to wipe that smug expression off his face, except that he kind of wants to do it _with his mouth_ , and instead he proceeds to put all his effort in beating Jaime. He manages, though with a lot less ease than he used to. He does tell Jaime that, figuring he’d like to hear it.

Shit, that man’s _sincere_ smiles should be fucking illegal, he thinks as he watches Jaime do exactly that and resigns himself to another night of frustration in company of his right hand.

\--

He also notices that Tyrion keeps on staring at him as if he wants to break down laughing every other moment, but he’s not going to ask him what the hell is his deal.

He probably doesn’t want to know.

\--

“You know,” Tyrion _does_ tell him a few days later, “when I sent Jaime to practice his swordfighting with you I had figured you’d get along, but then I have to find out you’re half of the reasons why he’s not dead yet?”

“I’ll get that castle one day,” Bronn says, shrugging, and it’s obvious Tyrion does _not_ in any way, shape or form buy that.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Tyrion says, “but your efforts have been entirely appreciated. If you still want that castle after the dead army is defeated, my sister is defeated and hopefully none of us are dead, come as _me_ – I pay my debts and I hadn’t actually given up my inheritance back in the day.”

“I’ll be sure to let _you_ know,” Bronn laughs, and –

Right. _If they live_.

That’d be the key word, wouldn’t it?

\--

“Ser?”

“Lady Brienne. I hope you’re not here for more information about that time with the dragon.”

“No, but the first batch of obsidian daggers has been forged and it will be handed out to some of the army tomorrow. However, given that I’m Lady Sansa’s sworn sword, that Jaime currently has a bounty on his head for helping us and a whole lot of other reasons, the king might have told me that if either of us wants a first choice, we can go to the armory today. And since he got here safe also because of _you_ and I can sympathize with, well, having to bring that man _anywhere_ without risking your life in between, I was wondering if you wanted to come with.”

“Wait, what, to _choose daggers_?”

“There’s no time like the present and being able to choose your own weapon isn’t little.”

“Fair point. When, now?”

“In a short time. Jaime will be there already, though. But before we do leave –”

She sighs, shakes her head, then moves closer. “Before, I would like to have _another_ kind of word with you.”

He shrugs and motions towards the tree stump he’s sitting on. She sits next to him. “Do go ahead.”

“I know what happened on the Kingsroad,” she says, and –

Wait a moment.

 _Wait a fucking moment_ –

“You mean –”

“I mean _exactly_ what you think it means. We talk, you know?”

“The goddamned – _why_ would he tell you?”

She – she _smiles_. What the hell?

“Because I asked. Calm down, Ser, I’m not angry.”

“You’re – you’re _not_?”

She huffs. “I could hardly be angry if you and him laid with each other when I still thought there wasn’t a chance that he would or could ever want _me_. And you’ve been nothing but exceedingly courteous until now.”

“Lady, I might be a former sellsword and no one’s ever said I was the best man in Westeros, but I’m not _his_ bloody sister and I know my place.”

“You’re not his sister, true, but you’re wrong about the second part.”

“… _What_?”

“Ser, I have a feeling he _does_ miss you some, and he definitely hates that you’re less around than you might be, but what I mean is, I – I would be amenable to – if he wants _you_ , too, then I would be all right with it.”

If Bronn had been holding _anything_ in his hands, it’d have crashed to the ground.

“I’m – my lady, I don’t think I grasped your fucking meaning.”

“Ser, I think you did.”

Why is she looking at him as if she _absolutely_ meant it and like she’s not… angry or disappointed or anything?

“My lady, I really don’t think he –”

“He does,” she interrupts, and why is she sounding _amused_ now?

“How do you know?”

“I asked,” she goes on, still sounding amused. “But I suppose you need more than that. Very well.” She sighs, then looks back straight at him. “I spent a while thinking I was still in love with Renly Baratheon while I had feelings for _Jaime_ , too, and for that matter I thought it was equally hopeless. I know that you can – like two people at once, it’s not such a weird notion. I’m _fairly_ sure he wants the both of us, since he pretty much admitted it when I asked.”

“And you’d be amenable to sharing with _me_?” He has to laugh. It’s _ridiculous_.

“Why wouldn’t I, when you and I have the exact same priorities?”

 _That_ shuts him up.

“Come again?”

She smiles ever so slightly again. “Ser Bronn, you said it. No one throws themselves in front of dragons for _gold_ or castles, and thing is, I know _I_ would have done the same as you, in your situation. If you’re willing to give your life for someone you also want their happiness, and it’s about everything you’ve done since now. You can hide it with all the profanities you like, but it’s obvious, and I – that’s everything I want, too, and if having _you_ , too, would make him happy, then there’s worse people I could think of sharing a bed with.”

Bronn just keeps on staring at her. Shit. She sounds like she bloody means it.

“My lady, I don’t know if you’re aware, but if people think _Jaime_ wearing a white cloak was a jape, _me_ being a knight would be the best jape in the Seven Kingdoms, I’ve never even known my father’s surname, I come from someplace where you get your nose broken before you’re two and ten and the two of you –”

“And then _he_ is the dumb cunt?” She snorts. “Ser, _my_ own nose was broken twice regardless of how well it might’ve set. _He_ comes from his father and his sister, and as you already pointed out, half the realm thinks he has no honor. And I spent a very long time thinking he would never have eyes for the likes of _me_ , same as I thought no one else ever would have. What I care about is what _he_ wants and that you’ve been entirely courteous when it came to me, and you’ve – Ser, _honestly_ , you about told me to confess my feelings to him because _he_ wouldn’t and you think I might assume _you_ have nefarious intentions? When we’re all here hoping the dead don’t kill us? If _that_ is your objection, be assured that I don’t care and he cares even less than I do. Because the point is that _he_ wants you, too, and I _know_ it’s not because I’m not enough or – whatever I might have thought a while ago. And I was planning on telling him in the armory if you agreed, so – _do you_?”

“… My lady, I see you are not a time waster,” he stammers, because like hell he had expected her to drop _this_ on him.

She shrugs. “Ser. I’ve spent _years_ loving Renly for nothing. I’ve spent years fighting back men who thought I was a jape. I spent years thinking _any_ of what I have with him now was not for the likes of me. We might all die sooner rather than later. I am quite done wasting time if I am sure of what I want. So, again… _do you_?”

Bronn holds her stare, noticing that fuck it, she _does_ mean it, she does entirely, and he kind of likes how she’s getting in charge here and how she’s being no-nonsense about it.

And then –

 _If having_ you _, too, would make him happy_.

He honestly can’t believe that _he_ is such an important factor when discussing Jaime Lannister’s fucking happiness, but –

He thinks of the times he _has_ jerked off thinking about those two fucking, to his shame or not, and she’s offering him the real thing on a silver platter and she’s telling him that Jaime _actually_ does want it, and –

Fuck him, he never was the kind of man who’d refuse what was good for him.

“If you’re _really_ sure of this –”

“If anything,” she says, “having _someone else_ around trying to get into his head that he deserves to be happy cannot hurt. And you’re hardly a disgrace to look at, _Ser_. Surely less than I am.”

He laughs – he _has_ to, because this is all so absurd he can’t not. “I don’t know,” he says, “you _do_ have a fair lot going for yourself. I could think of entirely more repulsive people I could find in my bed.”

“Well, since we apparently agree that we do _not_ dislike each other too much and we can work with this, I suppose you should follow me to the armory.”

“Do lead the way, _my lady_.”

“I think,” she says, “that if you and I are going to – to do what we just agreed on, it can be Brienne. _In private_.”

“Oh, then it’s Bronn to you. Also in public, if you so wish.”

“Gods, I can see why he likes you,” she groans as she stands up.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re as bad as him when it comes to your tongue getting smart. So, shall we?”

He nods and follows her towards the armory, even if he’s still fairly damned sure that he’s fallen asleep on that tree and making this entire conversation up.

\--

Unsurprisingly, Jaime is inside the armory already.

“Oh, there you are,” he says, and – he looks fairly happy to see him there, too?

“What’s the verdict?” Bronn asks. “Found anything exceedingly special to kill dead men with?”

“Hilarious,” Jaime quips. “It’s _daggers_ , not swords, and it’s not like they made them worrying about the details. Anyway, I’m taking this one.” He holds his left out and Bronn whistles – it’s a _fine_ thing, and it’s _all_ obsidian, not just the blade. Someone carved the entire handle in the stone, and it’s all pitch black. And the blade is _really_ fine – it looks like it’d cut off an entire finger if you just brushed against it.

“Call it choosing the best,” he whistles.

“Well, I’ve been given first pick and I shouldn’t take advantage of it? Please.”

“Fair point,” Brienne concedes as she eyes a slightly longer and thinner blade with a handle that obviously belonged to a _way_ less fine weapon. It’s old iron, Bronn thinks, but it’s a _large_ handle and it fits in her hand fairly nicely, and she seems convinced by it – she takes it and puts it in her belt. “That’ll be mine.”

“So there’s just me left? Well then,” Bronn says, taking a look around the racks – the armory is _full_ of the damned things, coming in the most mismatched handles, but for the rest it’s all black obsidian. He’s glancing around until his eyes fall on one particular dagger that once upon a time he’d have _dreamed_ of fucking owning. The handle is _definitely_ gold, though not the kind that shines at a distance like Jaime’s damned hand, and there’s a small sapphire planted in the middle of it. He has a feeling the previous owners must be dead or no one would have relinquished such a fine thing for making obsidian daggers in a short time, but when he grabs it, he decides that he likes how it fits in his grip, and maybe one day he could have dreamed of owning such a fine thing, but dead men are coming and he doubts anyone would give a fuck.

Fine.

“I’m done,” he declares.

“ _Nice_ ,” Jaime approves. “I see you’re aiming high.”

“And I see he likes _golden_ things,” Brienne says, and _fuck_ , where did _that_ come from? Is Lannister rubbing off on her?

“Maybe I do,” he quips back. At this point he has to go along with it. “Though maybe it’s not _things_ , that I like.”

“What are you two talking about?” Jaime says, obviously noticing the shift in conversation. Bronn would really like to know what’s the plan here, because _he_ has no idea, but –

“Ser Bronn,” Brienne says, “I think you should be more specific about what it is that you like, because I’m sure I know and I’m sure _he_ wants to know.”

“Wait,” Jaime says, “ _what_ do I want to know?”

“That I apparently like golden _cunts_ , or better, _one_ specific cunt, rather than _things_ , and I think we all know who I’m talking about.”

“And,” Brienne says before Jaime can make any remark on the topic, “I talked to him.”

“You did _what_?”

“Talked to him. After that conversation we had two days ago.”

Jaime just _stares_ at her. “Wait, you _did_?”

“Of course I did,” she says, still sounding way more amused than anyone would have the rights to in this situation. Maybe Jaime _did_ rub off on her. “I might have asked him if he was willing to join the two of us, so to speak.”

“I never said –”

“Jaime,” she smiles, “it was _obvious_ that it was what you meant even if you didn’t say it. I’m not obtuse.”

Jaime then turns to glare at _him_. “And what did you tell her?” He asks, his voice carefully even.

Bronn wants to start laughing hysterically. “I just told you I liked _one_ specific golden cunt in this wretched realm and it’s not your sister, while the lady here… well, I quite like her, but her hair’s not _golden_ and she’s certainly not a _cunt_ , she’s smarter than the two of us put together probably. Who the hell did you think it was? ‘Course I meant _you_.”

He should probably laugh at Jaime’s absolutely shocked face as he glances in between the two of them as if he can’t seem to decide who he should actually look at.

He eventually settles on Brienne, taking a step closer, and then -

“Brienne, I _told_ you –” He starts, and she shakes her head.

“I _know_ that, or I wouldn’t have asked him now, would I?”

“But – are you sure? I mean –”

“Jaime, believe me, if I _didn’t_ want it or agreed with it, I wouldn’t have asked him.”

Bronn doesn’t know if they’re having a staring contest or not, and he kind of feels like he should leave and let them have it, but then Jaime gives her a _look_ and moves closer, and –

“If you’re fine with it, I – of course I would, but – I don’t get it. _How_ are you fine with it?”

“ _Talk_ about it,” she presses. He scoffs but then he looks back at her and does and Bronn thinks, _so this is how you go at it in order to make sure he talks to you?_

“Listen, with – I just, Cersei would have never even considered –”

“Fine, but it’s –” Her voice drops as they get even closer. Now Bronn _really_ feels like he should leave, except that he can’t. “I don’t get to decide what you should want or not,” she whispers, “and I like to think I can share if that’s what will make you happy, never mind that I could do plenty worse and I think we have an understanding.”

“You have an _understanding_ ,” Jaime repeats.

“Turns out we’re both invested in keeping your arse alive,” Bronn says, because he _has_ to lest he starts feeling like he’s really intruding. “Anyway, just so we’re all aware, I’m entirely amenable if _you_ two are.”

“You’re – fuck. _Fuck_ , I just – you’re going to punch me in the face if I ask you if you mean it again, will you?” He asks Brienne, who smiles and shakes her head.

“I wouldn’t punch you in the face, but I’d be _fairly_ displeased. Yes. _I_ proposed it, and I don’t do anything I don’t want.”

“I can see that,” Jaime breathes against her mouth, and then he kisses her, and _fuck that_ , he goes for it without even blinking, and she kisses back as hungrily as he is, and they’re _definitely_ using tongue and it’s _not_ the kiss you’d give to someone you don’t _love_ , he thinks, and fuck but now he thinks he’s so turned on he couldn’t hide it if he wanted, and then he’s fairly sure that Jaime told her that she’s a gift from the gods or something before he turns and stares at _him_ and fuck this, he’s halfway smirking and halfway looking like he can’t even believe he’s about to move closer, and _closer_ , and –

“So,” he says, “you’re _amenable_?”

“Very much so,” Bronn replies without even trying to go around it. “Why, you think I jerk off all my friends in need?”

“Given that _two_ out of three weren’t even there –” Jaime starts, and Bronn is _done_.

“Jaime? _Shut up_ ,” he says, and moves a hand to the back of Jaime’s head and pulls it slightly downwards and _finally_ kisses him and – shit, he has slightly swollen lips and they’re _warm_ , of course, he’s just kissed Brienne after all, and they’re as soft as he had figured they would be, and the moment he pushes forward Jaime _moans_ into his mouth and he lets him take charge of the kiss without even blinking and _fuck_ , it’ll be some goddamned miracle if he doesn’t come in his damned smallclothes, which would be goddamned embarrassing, but Jaime’s left hand is at his neck and the right awkwardly resting on his side and he’s kissing him back with such enthusiasm that it’s _obvious_ he had been wanting to for some time.

When he has to move back for air, he almost groans in frustration at how _unfairly_ good Jaime looks with his lips even more swollen and reddened cheeks and staring at you like he just got everything he wanted and then some, and then he turns to glance at the lady just to see if she’s of the same mind after this little show –

And _shit_ , her eyes are maybe a darker shade of blue and her cheeks are also reddened and she looks like she enjoyed the little show more than she thought she would.

“I think,” Jaime says, slowly, “that my bed might be way more comfortable than _an armory_.”

“I think,” Bronn says, “that it’s the only good idea you’ve had lately after deciding you were going to _fuck loyalty_.”

Brienne _does_ laugh at that, way more openly than she’s ever seen her doing. “I think,” she says, “that we shall get along way better than people would’ve thought.”

Bronn is definitely _not_ going to contest that statement.

Not at all.

\--

Jaime’s bed is _definitely_ looking more comfortable than an armory – Bronn figures that the least Sansa Stark could do for Brienne was giving her a bed large enough for the both of them, and since they sleep in the same room, and he’d _know_ –

Well, it _does_ look large. And comfortable. And so far so good, except that if he was on his own he’d have an idea of how to get started here, but he’s _not_ and he has no idea of what he’s supposed to do, never mind that he has a feeling that it someone’s in charge here it’s neither him nor Jaime.

He waits to hear her close the door.

“So,” he says, before this entire thing becomes awkward, “does any of my _hosts_ have an idea of how we should be entertaining ourselves here?”

He can hear Brienne snorting behind him. “I’m sure _he_ has ideas,” she says, nodding towards Jaime, who’s moving towards the bed but not attempting to sit on it or anything of the kind.

“Wow, you’re _sure_ I do?” Jaime asks. “And do you happen to have guessed them already?”

“I have a feeling I can imagine,” she says, “Or I don’t know what you like, now?”

“Never said you didn’t,” he replies, a lightheartedness to his tone that Bronn can’t ever remember hearing.

Gods, she _does_ bring out the best part of him, doesn’t she?

“Well,” she says, “that armory wasn’t the best place to go on, but I think that if you get rid of your daggers, you might… consider picking up where you left.”

It’s phrased like a suggestion, but it’s obvious that she’s just told them to reprise whatever it is they were doing in the armory, and given that he can see Jaime’s eyes go progressively darker, Bronn thinks he _knows_ how things might go, indeed, and –

Fuck, if he _doesn’t_ have a problem with it, he thinks as he feels blood rushing downwards. He takes his dagger and places it in front of a mirror in the corner of the room and both Brienne and Jaime do the same before heading back towards the bed, and then –

“I also think _Bronn_ would agree with me when I say that hand is absolutely not needed?”

Oh, so _that_ is how it’s going to go, then.

He smiles. “Sure as hell no one needs it in the way.”

Jaime stares at the two of them, then shrugs and stretches his right arm, aiming for the leather strips –

“I think our guest should have the honors,” Brienne interrupts them, leaning against the door and staring intently in their direction.

Bronn has a feeling he was dead wrong when he said Jaime should fuck her.

He has a feeling it’s _entirely the contrary_.

“And then you should do whatever it is that you two have been itching to do, I think,” she says, and it’s obvious that for now she just wants to watch, and Bronn’s not going to tell her not to.

“Well, you heard her,” Jaime smirks, and Bronn glares at his smug face as he does away with the leather strips holding the godforsaken golden hand to Jaime’s wrist and throws it to the side.

“That thing is ugly as hell,” he remarks.

“I’m not wearing it right now, am I?”

“You’re not,” Bronn agrees, and then he grabs the idiot by the lapels of his unfairly fitting red jacket and drags him forward and kisses him again, same as he had wanted to before and same as he’s been wanting to for too long, he supposes, and then he realizes he doesn’t have to stick to damned handjobs unless anyone here has a problem, and he thinks no one does. Thing is, Jaime kisses back so eagerly it’s obvious he’s been wanting it for some time, and he’d like to ask, but it’s not the time and he doesn’t know which one of them gives the other the final push towards the bed but at some point _there_ they are, with Jaime on his back and Bronn on top, and fuck, fine, if no one stops him –

He puts his hand on Jaime’s waist, just where his breeches are laced up, and he undoes them slow, without pushing them down. Like hell he’s _not_ going to take it slow, not when until now he’s had to do the entire contrary. He breathes, kisses down Jaime’s neck as he opens up his shirt and looks at that expanse of skin – he _knows_ entirely well how it _felt_ but he hasn’t seen him naked yet, and he’s not too surprised to see that Jaime has his own share of scars, shallow or not, and he maybe kisses his way down there until he finally gets to Jaime’s waist and pulls off his breeches.

“Fuck,” Jaime says, “who’d have known you’d _take it slow_?”

“I’m a man full of surprises, then,” Bronn replies, and honestly, he _really_ wants to see if he can talk when he takes him in his mouth.

“Or maybe you just do things properly,” Brienne says from where she’s now sitting, not too far, and where she’s watching them very, _very_ intently. “Do go ahead,” she goes on, “I think I like how _Ser Bronn_ likes to act.”

Well then, if she approves, to, he might as well get down to it, _shouldn’t he_?

He leans downwards and – all right, it’s been years since he’s been with a man, and he’s _definitely_ out of practice, but he’s been with plenty of women and he knows what he likes, and when he hears Jaime moaning _way_ too loud as Bronn runs his tongue along the head of his dick, well, he thinks he likes that, too, except that like _this_ someone will hear for sure.

Still. He’s not going to interrupt now, and so he adjusts his position, moving on his knees and hoping Jaime gets the drift and sits up – he does, slow, and he takes him back into his mouth again, and fuck, was Jaime ever this hard while they were on the road? He doesn’t know and he doesn’t even particularly care, and when Jaime’s hand grabs at his hair he sucks harder and moves a hand up so he can give a few strokes to what of his dick he hasn’t managed to get into his mouth yet, and then he feels a hand on his back –

“Do go ahead,” Brienne says, “but I think we’re being way too noisy.”

“Trying being in my place,” Jaime huffs, but he wouldn’t convince anyone of being annoyed, not when he’s obviously trying to not moan as he says it.

“I can imagine, which is why I moved,” she says, and Bronn glances upwards to see her kissing him as she kneels on the free side of the bed and puts an arm around Jaime’s shoulder, and _shit_ she’s doing that while Jaime’s painfully hard in his mouth and Bronn is _so_ going to come without anyone touching him if this is how things are shaping up to be. He _so_ is, but whatever. He’ll have another occasion, he’s not _so_ goddamned old, and he thinks he knows when Jaime’s about to spill from how _painful_ the grip on his hair turns, but he doesn’t really give a fuck about that and so he swallows when he _does_ spill in his mouth, and he might not have done it in ages but given how hard Jaime’s come he thinks he’d _definitely_ not too rusty, and so what if he only moves away when Jaime’s grip on his hair becomes lax enough to not really keep him in place? He looks up, moving to his feet, and shit but Jaime is a sight – his face is a healthy flush and his eyes are bright green and there’s hair plastered on his forehead and Bronn thinks he has something to say, except that then Brienne grabs _him_ by the shirt and _tugs_ and kisses him before he can even think of spitting on the ground.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jaime groans from their left side, and Bronn’s about to agree because he wasn’t expecting her to do it and she doesn’t kiss like a _maiden_ would, and he’s so fucking turned on it’s not even remotely amusing.

“Why,” he asks when she moves away, “should we do it again?”

“I wouldn’t refuse,” Jaime breathes out, barely audible for how low his voice just got.

“Maybe later,” Brienne says. “ _Definitely_ later. And I think you should pay him back that favor,” she says, staring straight at Bronn, who is _absolutely_ fine with this course of action, except that they’re in a fairly bad position now, aren’t they –

“ _Gladly_ ,” Jaime says a moment later, and _fuck_ , he’s not going to have to work much for it if it goes on like this.

“Ser,” Brienne says, “how about you get rid of those clothes?”

Which would leave _her_ the only one with any clothing on, Bronn notices, but _who cares_. Honestly. He leans back, takes off his shirt and kicks off his shoes, and Jaime _whistles_. What the hell?

“What?” Bronn asks.

“Can’t a man appreciate what he sees?”

Bronn scoffs – he _knows_ he keeps well in shape, scars aside, but it’s nice to hear it, he supposes, and he also gets rid of his breeches and smallclothes. He might as well.

“Does the lady still think I’m not _a disgrace to look at_?” He jokes.

“I might have underestimated the situation,” she replies, with a calm he honestly envies her. “But please, do get back here.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice, honestly, and he does, and for a single, horrible moment he thinks, _how are we all going to fit there_ , but then he looks at Brienne who is obviously taking in the situation and makes a motion for him to lie on his back.

He does, or at least he lies down until his back hits the pillow. Jaime tells Brienne something he doesn’t quite grasp, she rolls his eyes and tells him he’s bloody impossible before Jaime kisses her cheek and then rolls over, moving his hands to the sides of Bronn’s thighs and he _licks his damned lips_ before muttering something about _figuring it out_ and –

Oh, _shit_ , Bronn realizes, he has a very distinct feeling _he_ might be the first and only man Jaime’s been with, which would make this –

He’s so _not_ going to think in depth about the implications that this is most probably the first time Jaime doesn’t do this with _a woman_ and he doesn’t know he was holding his breath until Jaime’s tongue tentatively traces his cock and _hell_ , this has no right to be so fucking arousing but it _is_ , and he keeps his hands to himself – it’s honestly a better idea – and then bites down on his tongue when he sees Brienne climbing up behind Jaime, and she’s still goddamned clothed but her sleeves are rolled back.

He wonders how many goddamned practice at _this_ they had as Jaime decides to stop torturing him with his damned tongue and actually takes him into his mouth, and it’s _every bit_ as good as he had imagined it’d be because even if he’s going slow he’s going steadily, and then he moans around his cock because Brienne has spat on her fingers and thrust them up his ass.

 _Well,_ shit, he figures that if his cause of death ends up being _laying with those two_ he’d take it over dead men or a former colleague, and he doesn’t miss that Brienne’s keeping a hand on the small of Jaime’s back – the one she’s not using to fuck _him_ , at least, and then he’s really not thinking anymore because whether Jaime’s just doing what _he_ just did before or not, he’s not halfway bad at sucking cock and sure as hell he’s putting effort into it. His hands reach down, tentatively grasping at Jaime’s hair, and he moans around his cock again and _hells_ , he’s so _not_ going to last here, and he thinks he says something to that extent in the middle of profanities he’s muttering, and he makes sure that he loosens the grip on Jaime’s hair so that he can move away if he wants to, and he _does_ , but then his left hand wraps around his dick and gives him a few, uncoordinated strokes before Bronn’s coming, too, and he doesn’t want to say he’s seeing stars as he does but he _kind of fucking is_ , and he ends up biting into the pillow in order to not be too noisy.

And then he looks back up at the scene in front of him and he kind of wishes he wasn’t totally spent so he could jerk off at the sight of those two kissing slow and thorough and entirely meaning it while Jaime’s lying half on top of his legs.

He kind of wonders if she _did_ get him hard again.

“I think,” he croaks, “that _you_ might feel a bit left out,” he tells her as they part, because _she_ is looking at him and Jaime’s looking up at her.

“Oh, I’m not,” she says, “but do you think you might want to stay there? Because I had a small plan.”

“Do go ahead,” he says, and stays where he is.

She reaches down and Jaime grabs her arm with his left, letting her pull him up, though Bronn can see that he’s kind of uncoordinated right now. He’s more than ready for it when she gently moves Jaime back so that he’s lying against Bronn’s chest, his head in the crook of his neck, and –

Yes. He’s _definitely_ hard again, and Brienne is pulling off her breeches but not her shirt as she moves back towards them.

Shit, she has _long_ legs, Bronn thinks, still so turned on that he’s sure that ten years ago _he_ also would have been hard again _now_.

And as she moves with her long, long legs around Jaime’s thighs Bronn has to maneuver a bit so that _his own_ don’t get tangled in the mess, but they do manage, and then he looks down at Jaime and notices that not only he hasn’t said anything smart in a long while, but his eyes are a bit unfocused unless he’s looking at _her_ – or at _him_ whenever he glances his way.

He kind of wants to ask, but then Brienne’s right in front of them and has her hands on Jaime’s shoulders, and –

“Take it off if you’d rather,” she says as Jaime’s left hand reaches out and unlaces the shirt efficiently, and when it falls open – right. She has small breasts, and there’s freckles splattered everywhere on her chest and stomach and she’s _also_ full of scars but of course she is, same as them – they all made a life out of swords, didn’t they?

“Brienne, _fuck_ ,” Jaime mutters as she thanks him for the service and she about sinks on his cock without warning, and Bronn swears he hasn’t ever heard anyone saying _fuck_ as if he was saying something like _sweetling_ or some idiotic shit like that. Except that Jaime _is_.

And she’s moving over him ever so slowly, obviously wanting to draw it out, while his left hand cups her breast and she moves down to kiss him, grabbing his head in between her hands. Bronn decides that he’s going to show some bloody initiative and kisses the side of Jaime’s neck, just to feel him shiver, and meanwhile he moves an around his waist, keeping him still, and gods but Jaime’s _letting_ him and it’s going to go to his head, but then she moves back and rotates her hips downward and Jaime mutters _something_ that makes her pull out, but then her hand is on his cock a moment later and her mouth is crashing against Jaime’s and he’s _melting against her_ and it’s the goddamned most arousing thing Bronn’s ever seen in his entire wretched life, or at least it’s up there with Jaime’s mouth on his cock, or maybe it should be the way Jaime leans back into him as Brienne jerks him off and he goes tense before spilling on her hand Bronn can feel exactly how much he trembles in pleasure, and then Jaime shakes his head and Brienne moves so that he can slide his hand in between her legs and it doesn’t really take long – she _obviously_ peaks with little effort on Jaime’s side –

And then he licks his fingers clean.

Bronn thinks he’s going to die of these two rather than of dead men and he thinks maybe he’d rather have _that_.

But he doesn’t _die_ – rather, he catches his breath as Jaime does the same and doesn’t move from his position _at all_.

“Comfortable, _Lannister_?” He asks, not even trying to keep his amusement from the tone, but Jaime just says something unintelligible and sort of curls up against him further.

 _What_.

“Hey,” he says, “are you –”

“Bronn, let him be. Whenever it gets intense there’s no answer to be had for a while.”

“Oh,” Bronn says, taking it in. “So, uh, what –”

“ _Stay_ , please. Now that’d be extremely rude if I told you to leave, and _he_ wouldn’t appreciate it either,” she says fondly, and they move a bit so that Jaime’s in between them and his head’s still on Bronn’s shoulder while Brienne is curled around his back.

“Never said I wanted to,” he says, but he’s kind of relieved she told him to stay.

She runs a rough hand through Jaime’s hair once, twice, and then grabs the sheets and covers the three of them. Bronn, on his side, has somehow ended up with his own hand around Jaime’s scarred right wrist and he’s not moving it either.

Never mind that Jaime _is_ completely out of it and he’s definitely at least dozing off if not quite sleeping, which means that maybe –

“Can I ask what you were talking about…before?” Bronn asks.

“ _Before_ – when?”

“When you told him you could share.”

She shakes her head, then looks at him with the uttermost seriousness.

“In between talking to _him_ and to Lord Tyrion – I think I realized something,” she says, her voice dropping.

“As in?” Bronn whispers back.

She shrugs. “I know how it feels when people think you’re a commodity. I have had enough fake suitors or broken marriage agreements to understand that. Sometimes he talks about his sister and from what he says and from what Lord Tyrion says it just – it sounds like she about did that with him, too,” she sighs.

“I can about confirm that,” Bronn agrees. “The moment she was in the picture, he’d just – end up being a _real_ cunt, not just his usual dumb but decent self. I honesty had hoped he’d run away, after the dragon.”

Well,” she smiles ever so slightly, and you wouldn’t have said since it’s not like he’s ever seen her smile in the entire time they knew each other until _now_ , but her grin is indeed lovely. “I don’t want to be that person. It sounds like _he_ was the commodity out of the two of them and of course I can’t know for sure and his sister would deny it to hell and back and he probably wouldn’t see it that way but regardless… I don’t think people are commodities. And he – he’s a good man. He has _potential_ for a lot of things. And – he shouldn’t have ever felt like that. He – he deserves what he wants. I’m flattered part of it was me, and I have no right to stop him from having the other part if he can have it. However, I think he has it in him to _love_ more than one person at once. And I’m – I’m not telling him not to. I want him to be happy, not to do even more sacrifices on my account, and if it means having you around, well, I think I’m fine with it. And what about you?”

He smirks. “It’s not about whether I’m noble or self-sacrificing. He’s a sometimes idiotic golden cunt but case is, that’d be a sometimes idiotic golden cunt I happen to _like_ , if you get my meaning.”

“Then I think we’re in agreement, aren’t we?”

“Are you even bloody asking?” He huffs, his hand going to the back of Jaime’s neck, feeling the pulse fluttering under his thumb as Brienne’s grip on Jaime’s waist turns a bit stronger, and then Jaime’s eyes blink open and he looks slightly more focused than before.

“The hell were you talking about before?” He slurs, and no, he’s _still_ definitely out of it, though less so.

“We were just setting terms,” Bronn smirks. “Don’t worry, they’re all in _your_ favor.”

“And they’re barely even terms,” Brienne adds, but she does sound slightly amused. “Get some rest, I’m sure no one will miss us if we don’t go downstairs for one evening.”

Bronn is _not_ surprised when Jaime mutters something about how much she’s the best thing in his life or _something_ before he closes his eyes again and goes back to lying in between them like he’s preening or something of the kind.

“Are you ever going to teach me how it is that you make _him_ listen to _you_ at such short notice? Because if it’s me, he gets it, but it’s nowhere near that damned easy.”

“I don’t know,” she replies, “if you stick around long enough, you might find out.”

Bronn isn’t an idiot and he can see the invitation for what it is.

“Gladly,” he replies, and he means it completely.

\--

“Cersei has asked for a meeting,” Jon Snow huffs as he reads the raven, and Bronn’s not surprised of the reactions it generates. _He_ rolls his eyes, Tyrion’s expression is screaming _not again_ , Lady Sansa is looking as annoyed as her brother, Daenerys Targaryen seems a second away from suggesting to just send a dragon to roast King’s Landing _as if_ they haven’t dissuaded her from doing it more than once, Theon Greyjoy (who just came back from the islands after delivering his sister there) hasn’t been here long enough to partake in the general frustration but doesn’t seem impressed either, Brienne’s staring forward as if she’d like to destroy a few training dummies and Jaime looks –

 _Resigned_?

“And what does she even want?” Tyrion asks. “Not that I couldn’t imagine.”

“She realizes that since _we_ won and without _that_ many losses, she’s better off _treating_ rather than wiping us out as she had initially planned.”

“Do we have to accept it?” Sansa asks, wearily.

“Unless we want to send people to _another_ war,” Jon says, and that’s also a point – everyone is _tired_ and they just fought an army of dead people, Bronn doubts that their soldiers want to march on King’s Landing.

 _Again_.

For some of these people it’d be the third time since Robert died.

“However,” Jon says, “she also said that she’s only going to talk to her brother. As in, not _you_ , Lord Tyrion.”

Bronn has a feeling Jaime knew that, because he sighs and stands up.

“Fine,” he says, “I won’t be the reason why we go to war _again_. When do I –”

“Absolutely _not_ ,” Bronn says before he can end that sentence.

“Forget it,” Brienne says _at the exact same time_ as he had spoken, and –

_Have they stood up at the same time?_

The entire room is looking at the three of them as if they’re the most amusing sight in existence though, which… he supposes is better than the gloom that had been hanging around the place before.

“I can’t exactly –” Jaime starts.

“She’s not in a position to make demands,” Brienne interrupts him. “And I know the last thing you want is _going back to King’s Landing_ , you’ve been fairly vocal about it.”

“Given how well-off you were when you _left_ it,” Bronn goes on, figuring that they’ll deal about the embarrassment later, “you really don’t need to go back there. Or do _anything_ she says. Do you _want_ to go?”

“Not – not really,” Jaime admits.

“Then you’re not,” Brienne says, sounding like the matter is closed. “I should hope His Grace and Her Grace have a second plan?”

Jon Snow, who looks like he’s about to break down in laughter, good thing that because he looks way too gloomy half of the time, has to breathe in twice before replying with a semblance of an even tone.

“No one was planning on _sending him_ ,” he finally says, “even if he wanted to, I’m not going to give her the impression that she has actually some leverage. But at least you all gave us a fairly _heartwarming_ scene.”

“Hells,” Jaime mutters as he sits back on his chair, “you two will kill me with embarrassment one day.”

“But they thought it was _heartwarming_ ,” Bronn whispers back, leaning closer. “Lighten up. It was amusing.”

“For one, I’m glad Ser Bronn and I have our priorities straight,” Brienne adds, and of course they do, they’ve had enough proof of that until now.

Which is why their arrangement is working so well, truth to be told.

“What priorities, ganging up on me?” Jaime snorts, but it’s obvious he doesn’t mean it.

“ _You_ , as much as you can still be a self-sacrificing cunt who’d like to ignore what’s good for him at times.”

Now _that_ was probably the worst moment to say _that_ because people did hear him and now the entire room isn’t even trying to keep their reactions in and about _everyone_ is laughing at them, Tyrion first and foremost (then again, Bronn thinks staring at how close he and Sansa Stark are sitting, _that_ is a Lannister who’s not ignoring what’s good for him), but it’s obvious it’s all in good fun and they probably all needed it.

“You never mince words, don’t you?” Jaime huffs as his fingers tangle with the one in Brienne’s right hand.

“Why, would you want me to?”

“I wouldn’t,” Jaime admits, and good thing they’re sitting around a table or people would see that Bronn has a hand on his thigh – not that people don’t _know_ , at this point he’s sure they do, but still.

“And I wouldn’t either, at least _I_ don’t have to tell you all the time,” Brienne says, sending Bronn a _knowing_ look, and Bronn nods back because it’s not even the first time they speak at the same time in this kind of situation and by now they’re adjusted to it.

“You’re both unfair,” Jaime goes on, “after all where the hell am I, in King’s Landing or _here_? I know what’s good for me, thank you very much.”

About everyone hears him.

Tyrion admittedly spits his wine, Brienne shakes her head but Bronn can see her fingers tightening their hold around Jaime’s, everyone else is laughing somewhat harder than before and Bronn can’t believe this is his goddamned life _now_ , but what does he know.

Whatever it is, it’s good for all of them after all, isn’t it?

End. 


End file.
